Lava

Excuse my writing. I can’t promise this will be coherent or logical or valid, or even rational.

I can feel the anxiety and emotion and angst bubbling like lava in my solar plexus. My breathing is shallow.

I’m writing to get it all out. To purge it from my system in the hope that clarity will remain.

I’ve learnt enough about myself recently to know that this has been a slow build: a collection of evidence and concerns that my brain has stored, just waiting for the last piece of the mismatched puzzle.

And it will be mismatched. I’ve learnt enough about myself to know that, too.

It’s been the two months of being on edge, not knowing if my actions have ruined my relationship.

It’s the two months of him being on a cycle of busy and ill and therefore, just that little bit distant.

It’s the fact that he won’t commit to a time for me to visit.

It’s the fact that the plane prices are rising.

It’s the fact that my friends don’t seem to think he will ever commit to me.

It’s the fact that he’s different on the phone. Just a little. Less smiles. Less talking.

It’s how I’m beginning to lose hope. My dreams dying.

It’s how, I can no longer imagine a time when this works out.

It’s because I see my fb friend struggling in her marriage with a man from Wildcard’s country.

It’s because my London friend contacted to say her three year relationship is over.

And it’s because, nothing has changed about how much I love him. I still want him. And I fear deep down, that I’m going to get hurt.

I’m tired of the unknown and the anxiety and the overthinking and he think he is too.

*******

I called after work as I always do. He was fine, we were fine, and passed the time of day. He told me his brother had just called and wanted to know if Wildcard could take a week off in the summer so that they could all travel to a holiday resort in the North of his country.

This is going to be hard to explain, so stick with me. I’m going to sound paranoid and selfish too.

My immediate thoughts? Well, there goes the time he would have spent with me. He will use his holidays with his brother and will work when I’m there. We won’t go travelling. I will be in the house waiting for him. I’m an after thought, I’m not important. His life with me and his relationship now come second to what his brother wants. And maybe, that’s because – as I have long suspected – he doesn’t feel like I do. There’s no urgency to see me. There’s no missing me or wanting me. I feel like he could wait no end and not be bothered. (I’m crying again, btw)

So of course, as he says this, my eyes fill up. I try to hide it, as I always do, and fail also as I always do.

And he got moody. What was wrong? Why was I getting upset?

How to explain… how to get across how I feel without painting myself in a terrible light?

I just said, I was nervous that he would have no time for me. That he would have no holidays to be with me – (keeping in mind that he had 9 days off with his brother in February. He took 3 days off when I was there in January. )

He started by saying he had plenty of holiday left, then got angry and said what was the problem if he had to work? That we just stayed in his town and he worked and I stayed in the house?

And I felt devalued, again. Not important, again. And part of me knows he’s testing to see if all I want is a holiday, not him. And I know he’s in a difficult position. But why can’t our life together come first? Why can’t his brother fit around us as he was there less than a month ago?

And why was he angry?

At the same time, he talked through times when I could come and didn’t rule out my holiday in May. He wants me to come in summer, it seems, but I got the impression that was because he wanted to travel, but now that might not happen as his brother will supercede it.

He ended by telling me I had interrupted his programme and he was going, followed by the usual niceties.

And here I am.

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Imsomnia

As the title suggests, last night I did not sleep well.

Yesterday was my first day with him back. He called in the morning and he made me laugh. He called a few times in the day and then again in the evening, like always. I spoke with his parents. I laughed. My daughter said it’s the first time she’s seen me happy in a few weeks.

We had an interesting conversation, Wildcard and I, about his extended family’s reaction to his brother and wife. If you remember, I was jealous of her being introduced. I want to be part of the family, like her.

Turns out, I needn’t have bothered with all that emotion. Despite the effort his brother had put in to visiting and buying gifts, the welcome of the returning nephew and his European bride was lukewarm. It’s caused arguments and has upset his mum- of that I am truly sorry. But, Wildcard said a very clear ‘I told you so’ to me about how his family have behaved. He reminded me that for him, his brothers and parents are the most important people and they know me. I got the sense that for him, that line of conversation was now forever closed. He will not be taking his wife to visit them. Whether that wife will be me if for him to know and me to find out.

We talked in passing about when I would visit next as he told me that his brother plans to return in July. That gives me the end of May holiday and August. Before I slept, I spent some time exploring prices. The flights are significantly higher than last year and it is worrying me.

Once again, I’m back in the same position of wanting to book before it gets too expensive but not wanting to push him for a date, particularly when he is still exhausted by his brother’s busy trip.

That, and general worrying about my house and kids stopped me from sleeping. I also woke at 5.30am with bad stomach ache and have been awake ever since.

Today, Wildcard was quiet and ponderous. I don’t know if it is the family arguing, or he’s tired, or worried about the fact he skipped work yesterday so he could rest, but he was not himself. It upset me a little. And then it angered me some too. But then, as I hadn’t slept, it’s hardly surprising.

I’m still overthinking. I have a counselling appointment this week and an appointment with my doctor to discuss the ADHD and autism screener I have completed. I’ve changed my anxiety medication and feel happier on those. I’m still trying.

I don’t trust my own judgement still. I don’t trust my own mind. I’m not sure I even trust other people so much.

I don’t know if my worries are valid, anxiety, half-truths or just lies to protect myself.

I was looking at photographs this week, and I realised just how much my house has degraded since Dad’s death. Maybe the feeling I have that I have changed/ am not the same, are true. I’m actually depressed but masking it. I don’t feel depressed. But I also know something is not right.

And then, when I consider that, I think about how Wildcard still loves me despite me not being my best self. Why? Why would he stick with me through all of this if he didn’t love me? I’ve said it before and will say it again, there are far easier options than me.

But, if you have a hard time trusting yourself, how can you possibly trust anyone else?

Some people believe positive thinking and gratitude sort you out. Some think it’s medication. For some, fresh air and a healthy diet. Maybe it’s all of them.

Well, I’m not giving in not matter how few hours I sleep.

False smiles hide what the face doth show

By rights, my cheeks should ache. My laughter lines should be deeper. I have smiled and laughed and oozed sweet happiness all week.

Underneath I’ve felt loneliness and jealousy and angst.

He’s tried, I know that. Late night calls on walks where he is exhausted.  Snippety calls to show me where he is. And, once, a message acknowledging that he missed me too and recognised how we hadn’t spoken that day.

Maybe I am a bad person. I’ve hated every moment. I’m so happy that his brother has finally visited, for them and him. For me, it has just hurt. The pain of missing him. The anxiety of feeling he isn’t missing me.

My friend has told me to step out of my feelings of rejection and consider it from his point of view. He’s done his best. He may see my negativity as selfish.

She’s right of course, on every level. An anxious person would feel this two weeks as rejection. Thinking only of how this is hurting me is selfish. And, he’d contacted more than was expected. Just not enough or as much as I wanted.

There’s nothing quite like finally hearing my phone ring, answering in a swell of happiness and love, only for the call to end after 4 minutes.

My mask has slipped on occasion. Most times I replaced it within a nanosecond or was even more Stepford Wife on the next call. I’ve aimed for understanding and caring and supportive. No pressure. But, I’ve told him I miss him, because I do.

The morning after the day we didn’t speak, he called me. It surprised me. And the moment I saw his face, I wept. I tried so hard not to, but I was just so happy to see him. I hoped that his tiredness and the bad light stopped him from seeing. I doubt it.

Tonight is their last night. Today and last night have been the worst for contact and I hit my limit. I’d had enough of feeling like an afterthought.

I didn’t hide it when he called but we didn’t talk about it either. The phonecall was 2 minutes because he was too tired to talk.

My friend talked me down after that. Once calm, I of course saw how I’d let my emotions take over. Luckily for me: moments later he called again and my smile was back in place.

Tired or not, though, he has called three times since then. I talked out of the explanation for my sad face with something about work. A half truth.

I await my last call. It’s their last night, so it overrides my insecure need for validation. He will be mine again, soon enough, I hope.

And whilst I don’t believe in hiding feelings as it only builds resentment, holding on to wildfire emotions is essential – instead of allowing them to blaze uncontrolled.

Calm, considered discussion of issues is better than emotion filled explosions that I later regret.

Beginnings and ends, part 1

Today I am in no man’s land, numb. Makes a change, I guess.

I’ve spent the last 6 days in bed on the whole . Covid has wiped me out.

My last post was in a moment of uplifting. It didn’t last.

So this…from this point on, is either the beginning of the end or, the end and a new beginning. And whilst I am not in complete control, my decisions from this point could potentially sway it either way.

I’ve really hurt and upset him this time.

He’s not faultless, no. But my reactions and my irresponsible method of dealing with everything…well, that has caused this issue.

Let me tell you what happened.

Two days ago, I was feeling a little better – not needing to sleep all day, just pockets of it. At one such semi-awake moment, I decided to get my laptop to watch something as I had uncomfortably survived with my phone the day before.

As it was loading, I realised that I hadn’t used it since before my trip to see Wildcard. Sure enough, as it started, Messenger opened.

In the week leading up to Christmas, I’d had an issue with my phone draining when I plugged in the charger. This had led me to downloading the app on my laptop. The issue, is that I hadn’t deactivated the status button.

If I see someone is online but hasn’t read my message, it unnerves me – and that goes for anyone, not just Wildcard. Admittedly, in the early start of a relationship, I find this particularly hard. With him, to be fair, there have been very rare occasions when he hasn’t replied quickly. He always replies and usually in a good time. But, undeniably, not being able to see when he is active has helped me manage my expectations of this. It’s been turned off for over three years and for good reason.

So, the Messenger screen opened automatically as I clearly hadn’t shut it down before Christmas, and I could see that he’d been active 15 minutes ago. He’d last spoken to me over an hour before.

It shouldn’t matter, should it? Who am I to dictate who he speaks to and how? But, when that shock rolls through your body and you feel sick and scared, you’re not thinking of that.

I shut the laptop and stewed a little. He uses his sim/normal phone to message and call his parents and work colleagues and main friends. One brother uses WhatsApp to call. The other does use Messenger but not at this time of day, usually in the evening.

Listen to me trying to justify and catalogue what was normal! But that is what I did.

So then the adrenalin built, my negative thinking built and collected and spiralled. Who was he speaking to?

I opened up the laptop again. He was now active again. He was supposed to be in work.

I franatically searched for alternatives. If he was on Facebook, would this mean that it would show as active even if he’s not on Messenger?

I’m building desperation, I messaged my married friend. I knew that if he called me anytime soon, this irrational behaviour would just burst out. I didn’t even want to speak to him at this point.

She was calm, she was rational. She went through the unreliability of using that little green button as proof from her own experiences, as well as pointing out that it could literally be anyone.

I calmed a little but my head was buzzing. I decided to journal.

It was the worst thing I could have done. I wrote him a non-letter. I poured out every anxiety and fear, everything I worried about and kept inside – even things I haven’t written on here. By the end of it, instead of making me feel calmer, I felt worst. I’d built a spiky defence of accusation and hurt around myself, not released the demon thoughts into the ether. Everything negative was now up front and centre in my head. I even tried to counteract by writing a positive one but I couldn’t, the negativity was now like a loaded gun.

Yes, I did keep checking. I watched him go offline and later come back on again.

I managed to keep hold of myself when he called after work. Maybe still having Covid helped hide what was threatening underneath.

Unfortunately, when we had a usual evening call, that was not the case.

Trip 6, Day 8

I was tired this morning and I’m not sure why as I slept well. Maybe it’s all the overthinking – that has to take up some energy.

He came, we cuddled. In those moments, just lying there as I often am, you really relish the soft touch of his lips on your cheek; the strength of his arms around you or the sensual touch of bare feet on bare feet. It’s my favourite time, even if there was no love-making, like this morning.

After breakfast, I showered and then we took another stroll on his roof terrace. The sun was bright and warm and I love chatting with him up there. He told me we would be going to his city that afternoon.

We’ve been to the city about three times across my trips. Today though, we did more of the touristy things. Being a Friday, a lot of the shops and market stalls were closed, but enough were open to make it enjoyable – more so because with less stalls and less people, you could really get a feel for the place. We saw three of the main historical and architectural wonders his city is famed for and we took some beautiful pictures. It was good to be out in the sunshine too.

I was surprised and really touched when he bought me some beautiful leather sandals from the market and enjoyed watching the sunset as we drove home. Stopping to buy my favourite fruit from a farmer on the way home- even though they were expensive – was also a kind thought.

We were soon home and eating a delicious dinner. His parents soon went to bed but, unlike last night, there was no tension or undecision of what to do. It was my last night so we were staying up.

Not long after his parents left, I leant over his knees and asked for kiss. Then I told him I needed one. Either way, I didn’t get. He was engrossed in deleting old photos from his Google account making room for the beautiful photos we had taken that day. Being the high-maintenance craze-pot that I am, I of course was a little nettled by that. There was a little banter back and forth and eventually the phone was put down and the teasing commenced. Like the previous night, he would beckon me forward and, when I did, would exclaim that I misunderstood. After a while and under threat of me sitting back down in my place at his feet, he took to holding me there by my clothes or hair, an amused gleam to his eye (which I will freely admit now that I love) and a smile on his face.

Never to be outdone or skimp on the jesting, round two involved him pressing his lips together most invitingly for a kiss, then moving away when I tried. I’d ‘give up’, he’d hold me in place and then it would start again.

Round three was war of the noses. He’d let me close enough so our noses touched but that’s it. Amusing yes. Frustrating, ridiculously. Enough so…you guessed it by this point I emotionally couldn’t see the funny side and as ‘this is the last evening you will have time kiss me for 5 months’ screamed through my head, obliterating all sense and reason, I started to cry. AGAIN.

At this, he pushed his lips to mine and his kisses were…out of this world. He was generally shocked by my crying AGAIN, I can’t understand why, as that it pretty much all I’ve done. He asked, did I not like his playing? Which I replied, I did, but I guess the blubbering mess of my face suggested otherwise. I told him I loved him and then,

“Do you hate me?’ One because he had every right to and two, because that was what he said to me most of all – his way of professing his love in a way that I only know and he can pretend he hasn’t just blurted his heart out.

“No.” His voice was deep and emotion tinged and I lifted my head up in surprise to look at him.

“No? Tell me you love me then.”

And he did, although I didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked away right before the end. So close though.

After more beautiful kisses, I decided I emotionally couldn’t cope any more. I got up and got us both some water. Placing his bottle on his table, I turned to go and saw such a look of pain in his face. He was surprised I was going and looked genuinely hurt. I’ve never, ever seen that look before. I lay back down with him and he held me. He said he didn’t understand me. We hugged, we kissed, and soon it was time for me to go. He didn’t get up to walk me to bed.

I went into my room, sat down, and let it all out. Why do I keep doing this? Why do I ruin everything? He’d be better off without me.

After a moment, I went to the bathroom to clean up but then I went back to him.

He made room and I held him. He said again, “I don’t know why you do that. Why do you cry every night?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m not good for you.”

“OK.. so..” and that was all he said. He buried his face into my neck and we just held each other, his sentence unfinished…mine missing.

Before long, he roused enough to tell me to go to bed. He walked me to my door, kissed me, and said he loved me.

I didn’t sleep well, as usual. I woke a number of times, full of self loathing and fear. I’d never seen him so hurt before, so dejected. What could I say? How can I explain?

At 4.30am, I admitted defeat and went to the bathroom. As I walked through the hallway, I thought I heard the TV on from his room, but on the way back it was quiet. I lay back in bed, trying not to imagine he hadn’t wanted me to know he was awake. Either way, I needed to try to sleep.

Within moments though the door opened and he asked me to switch on the lamp. He told me he had had bad dreams and now couldn’t sleep. He crawled into bed beside me, and locked me within his arms. Before long, he was asleep and I lay there, thinking of course.

I barely wanted to move in case he left. Time passed by and eventually, I too fell asleep.

Trip 6, Day 6 – highs and lows

He came early this morning. I sprang up from bed delighted, like a child, and he joked that I should ‘stay back’. He grabbed his customary chocolate that I brought – for his sweet tooth, to sweeten his breath or for energy I’m never sure. He then got into bed. No phone…

He held me. I held him. And I let my hands wander and touch and caress – not for him as such, but selfishly because I want to commit every millimetre to memory. Although, he did enjoy it, obviously. We made love and after he held me again. I can’t get enough of him. I once read something – a poem perhaps – where the narrator said they wanted to crawl inside their loved one so they would be with them always. I found the analogy bizarre when I read it, and a little gross. But I get it now.

My soul craves his. 
My skin needs his. 
I want to melt into him -
For we are one. 

I’m unashamed when I say I enjoy sex. But this is not about sex. When we make love, I am as close to him as I possibly can be and that is what I want. I want him and his love to consume me – my body, my love, my heart and soul. That is what making love truly is and I can honestly say I have never felt like this with any other man in my whole life.

Eventually, it was time for breakfast. He was a little distracted and rushed to head out to work. As his parents and I were still eating, there was no goodbye kiss but as yesterday, I watched as he went to leave. Hidden by the wall, he turned and with humour in his eyes, blew me a dramatic kiss out of sight of his parents. And as the door closed behind him, his face was in the closing space and he gave me another and I smiled, openly and happily.

******

Today, I was lucky as he was able to come home for dinner. It was a nice surprise and broke up the day. He went back to work after of course, and in a change of routine I lay down on the bed.

I spent the remaining hours until he came home reading past posts from the time we met. It was eye opening. There was so much I had forgotten.

But it’s more than that. You can read how steadily, I fall in love with him. You see my inner conflict and fear as I combat the negativity of people I once called friends. You see my growing excitement, anticipation and anxiety as my first trio looms. Interestingly, now from a distance, you can see him falling in love with me and being equally as nervous. It was a wonderful thing to re-read and experience it all.

At this point, he came home. Finding me lying on the bed, he too broke routine and joined me. We watched a TV show together and he made me laugh. I listened as he repeated the English dubover of his Korean show and felt heartwarmed that he was trying to improve his English this way.

All too soon, we were called for tea. And all too soon after that, we were getting ready for bed.

After the usual rituals of goodnight, kisses, then washing my face, brushing teeth etc, I got into bed and picked up my phone to see…it was 8pm.

8pm

I was shocked. Don’t get me wrong, I know he is exhausted and I also know he goes to bed early. But 8pm? Really?

So, I did my usual. Allowed myself to stew and then messaged. I didn’t say much, honest. Just expressed my…surprise…at the time. He offered for me to go sit with him but, no. I cut my nose off to spite my face and told him: ‘It’s OK, forget.’

Within moments, he was with me. He told me he would stay until 10pm, my usual bedtime back home. Any protests by me were ignored. He cuddled in, shut his eyes and went to sleep.

I tried, a couple of times to wake him and tell him to go. He ignored me. So I lay for some time feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world. And then, surprisingly, no doubt shrouded in the warmth of his loving arms and acceptance, I too slept a little.

Happy Guilt

Wildcard and I have a verbal dance. Not being a dancer, I can’t complete this analogy properly but will say it is tango-esque.

He’s a joker, a teaser. Making me laugh for hours and hours is one of the ways he has consistently showed me his love this past few years. He delights in it.

Occasionally though, he will say something a little to the left of laughter…or, more likely, my mood will not see the humour in it. I’ve observed this trigger and know that it’s entirely to do with my fear of losing him and of not being good enough. We then begin our dance of tooing and froing…of empassioned pauses and fast turns, emotional filled, shocking and tense.

Last night’s gem isn’t hard to qualify as I was clearly in that mood yesterday as you can see from my post. I was feeling fear and doubt.

After writing that post, he called as usual, and I tried very hard to raise my positive energy and cast away my fears for another day. And I succeeded at first.

He then made a joke. It was a common one, something he says regularly- daily, even. It’s a joke which I laugh at, accept, feel warmth about 98% of the time.

Today though, I followed up with a question…

And he, as usual, continued his joke. No, he didn’t think of me that way. It didn’t even enter his mind.

The dance stops dead. The female lead freezes and stares at the male.

I was triggered. My mind shifted out of our usual joking – the joke we had had every day – into new territory. It side stepped into a new beat.

I questioned again, digging, clarifying…emotions overriding common sense. At this point, I’m glazed over, mind racing. There’s a lump in my throat and I feel the too-familiar tingle of tears in my eyes.

She spins and turns away….he stalks towards her.

He’s not oblivious. He knows that I’ve entered the dance, stamped my feet and sauntered away. He, of course, chooses to dance.

He questions me – why am I crying.

I reply, I’m not. I’ve managed to stop it.

He retorts, you haven’t. You look like you will explode.

The dance continues.

So I ask again, you really don’t think of me that way?

Yes, he says finally with humour and depth and truth in this eyes. I think.

At that moment she relents and is swept into his arms in a final montage of love.

He says I’m stupid, of course, with humour. Why would he be with me if he didn’t think like that? Why do I ask these questions when I know the answers? Indeed, why do I? The voice of sense is in my head…she sits there smug, knowing the truth but watches as my inner imposter takes the lead for a spell.

This morning I called him when I woke. He was in a good mood and as we greeted each other, he gave a huge grin and was chuckling to himself as he did something on the phone.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing.”

This of course makes me nervous. My brain goes into overdrive- what …or who…was he laughing at? Was he speaking to someone else when I called? Have they sent him something?

“Why are you nervous?” He asks.

“I’m not.”

“You are. Why are you nervous?”

“What were you laughing at?”

“I’ve sent you something. You haven’t seen it yet.”

Oh. So when he was laughing and doing something on his phone, he was actually sending me something. Oh.

I look at my phone and he’s sent a series of photos and I gasp and put my hand to my face and then laugh with him. At first, I don’t remember him taking them but eventually the memory breaks.

The photos are intimate but in an innocent way. We are in bed together and it was one morning when I was there. In the photos he is shirtless (it was the height of summer) and I am wearing a vest top but we are cuddling: with him looking at the camera and me with my head against his chest. Intimate, innocent, but kind of sexy. In the first of them, the angle isn’t great as I look at the camera too, and it’s not very flattering for me, and I remember telling him I didn’t like the photo so I moved to rest my head against his chest and closed my eyes. In the others, it’s recorded a loving moment and I hadn’t remembered or realised he’d taken so many.

There’s been a few times I’ve thought I’ve caught him taking surreptitious photos when I’ve been reading or when I was crying at the airport, saying bye to his mum, and I’ve just gone along with what I was doing- if he wants candid photos, let him. I take them often enough. But I’d forgotten this moment, and in its intimacy I realised once again that he loved me when he took them and he loved me enough this morning to have been looking at them before I called. So, yes, he does think about me in that and every other way.

I ended the call in happy guilt. Guilt that my mind jumps to the negative, so quick to allow my inner demons to cloud my judgement. Happy that he has proved again that he loves me and wants me.

About an hour later he called again, this time in his car. He was waiting for his parents as they were travelling to see family for a special event. He looked jaw-droppingly good. I asked to see what he was wearing and he panned out, a little reluctantly.

I told him he looked delicious, and he said he’d brought the blazer jacket I had bought him some time ago.

“Is that the jumper I bought you too?”

“Yes,” as he moved the camera to show me again and I glimpsed the ring I made him and the watch I bought.

“Baby! It’s like I’m there with you!”

He smiled shyly and looked to the side – the gesture he makes when he’s showing his true emotions. He laughed a little, and showed me his footwear – which I’d also bought him. 😍

“Oh baby, I’m there with you, hugging you with the jacket and jumper and ring and watch and the shoes!”

We both laughed and smiled at each other and then his parents got into the car.

As we ended the call, I thought about the fact that today, he had surrounded himself with many the things I have bought for him over the past three years. He didn’t need to – he has other things he could wear that I haven’t bought. But he chose to.

Now, I’m just happy. 🥰

Trip 4: day 2 reunion

He was over an hour late. I kid you not.

He had warned me the day before that there were issues at work and I was aware of the possibility that I may have to wait for him.

When I landed, over-brimming with excitement, I sent him a picture of the airport from the aeroplane window. Within moments he told me he had just got out and would be there within 30 to 40 minutes.

Knowing that his time is not like UK time, I expected him in an hour. I waited in the airport for that hour but as the place emptied – it is small despite being international – I started to feel uncomfortable and a little sad. Why could he have not made the effort to be here, waiting, like he always did?

I went outside and wandered amongst the flowerbed and trees outside the airport. After what seemed like an age but was only 15 minutes, I spotted him walking towards the airport. My heart lurched.

I can’t pretend a part of me wasn’t put out. But on the drive to his home, I reminded myself that he had warned me about this and I had repeatedly told him it was ok. I know there are things going on in his workplace.

Apart from that, the ride home was filled with laughter. He has a knack of making me laugh. It was so lovely to see his parents who had wanted to come with him to pick me up, and I hoped that this meant that their recent feud was passing.

When we arrived, I gave out presents and was happy they were so well received. He apologised that he hadn’t bought me anything. Again, I’m not materialistic and presents are not important to me. I didn’t expect one. And yet, when he said that – acknowledged it- it hurt.

And so, that inner voice is talking again. She’s been fed now and has the strength to whisper in my ear. My brain likewise is looking and finding evidence that what she says is true, because that is what our brains do.

She told me that his kisses were not passionate enough.

She told me that he didn’t sit close enough to me at dinner.

She whispered that he didn’t need to take his phone down to the car when he went to pick up the papers he had left.

I counter argued with the tender kiss he pressed on my neck as he moved past me as I looked out the window….

We had an amazing dinner – his mum had gone all out to make my favourite foods.

He then suggested we went to relax. We went to his room, cuddled, and soon intimacy followed. He laughed that he wouldn’t be able to sleep next to me as we would not get any sleep. See, I told her.

Later, we went to have tea and cake with his parents again before bed. He couldn’t do enough – checking I was OK, making sure I had everything I needed.

That’s being a good host, she said. He doesn’t have to do that, I replied.

I lay in bed and after 30 minutes he messaged, asking if I was OK. I replied I was, and told him I loved him. He sent a stream of hearts and kisses and hugs emoticons.

He hasn’t told you he loves you, yet, she pointed out.

I slept fitfully, waking repeatedly for no apparent reason. At 5am and got up to go to the toilet and went back to bed to read a little. I heard noises outside my room and felt a little guilty that I may have woken someone.

My door opened and he was there, asking if I was OK and saying that he couldn’t sleep too.

He climbed in to bed next to me and we bundled the blankets around us to keep out the cold. I instantly felt more content with him there and started to feel drowsy…until I was the opposite. What followed was the most tender and intimate love making we had ever had. We then lay together, limbs entwined. Even when he turned over, his legs wiggled back to find me and envelope mine.

See, I told her. He still hasn’t said he loves you, she replied. But hasn’t he just shown me? I exclaimed. Perhaps, she retorted.

Hearing his parents stirring, he got up to leave and gave me a kiss.

I wish my inner voice, my imposter, would just shut the hell up.

Crave

I should be used to the insomnia by now, but I’m not.

I dread going to bed because I know I will lie there and think of him. And my situation.  Equally, I dread going to sleep because of how often I dream about school. No closure there then.

I’m not sure why I posted my last post. I mean, yes, those thoughts and feelings were valid at the time of writing. It’s funny how you see things differently after a sleep. Or seven, in this case.

Wildcard, unfortunately, wasn’t seeing anything differently. Ever since that last outburst- which was 100% my fault – he’s been off. Yes, I know, we’ve been here before. And yes, I’m probably being a little oversensitive/paranoid/self absorbed but he half admitted it last night. He also keeps saying “so, you’re starting again…” which is a bit of a give away. I haven’t started anything …in the past week.

Of course, at this time of year, everyone starts evaluating and analysing their life. I’ve recognised just how hard this year has been for me and I’m determined that next year I will be more positive and proactive. Mel Robbins is leading the way in my thinking and I highly recommend you looking her up if you want some excellent coaching and life advice. I’ve been dipping in and out over the past 18 months but I’m committed to seeing things through to the end this time.

Some of her advice hits a little hard at times, mainly because you realise she is right. A lot of my ‘issues/anxieties’ with Wildcard are actually anxieties about myself. It’s not his place to make me feel good about myself, neither consciously or subconsciously. More and more I’m realising that I have to start loving myself and who I am. I feel like I’m in the eye of the storm at the moment. Things are ok, but I have some real tough decisions to make. I need to trust myself and my judgement. 

Whatever this was with Wildcard has blown over now. He often tells me that he just needs time and he will soon forget – he laments his terrible memory. I, on the other hand seem to store things in my head to make inaccurate equations with later.

My London friend’s words are still rattling around. I thought my conversation with Wildcard mid-December had banished them, but apparently not. They’ve been resurrected now more times than a tacky Hollywood villain.

My head just can’t seem to process my current situation. I do suffer from anxiety and due to previous relationships, I have anxious attachment. But there are fundamental things that my head can’t figure out. Like…

We’re in a long distance relationship – do these things just take longer? How is covid impacting on what would have happened? Are we following his culture or mine in this? Or, is he just commitment phobic and I’m being stupidly dragged along? Or, am I putting on too much pressure because of my own low self esteem – I need his formal commitment to make myself feel valued? My London friend thinks he is just waiting for someone better to come along. It’s easy to believe that when you dislike yourself.

My biggest problem is I cannot trust my own judgement any more.  It is affecting every area of my life. I thought I was a good teacher. I thought I was doing well. I thought I had finally ‘cracked’ the weight loss. I thought I had got myself in to good habits. I thought I had found the love of my life and dreamed of him being with me and being a family.

I love him exactly the way he is – I love everything about him. And yet sometimes I crave more, but I know this is more about my insecurity and self esteem than anything else. What I crave is confirmation that I am not imagining anything- he loves me, completely.  We will be together one day. In these moments, it doesn’t matter how many times he has called me or told me he loves me. My mind craves more.

Problem is, I’m never satiated because it’s coming from the wrong person. It needs to come from me. What I mean by that is he tells me he loves me, every day. He shows me he loves and misses me, every day. I know that. But I’ve recognised that when I’m feeling insecure and anxious, I crave the ridiculous over the top stuff. But that isn’t him: I just want it because of how I feel.

It is not the first time I’ve thought something along those lines. I remember writing a post about how my past relationships had caused me to be anxious – it wasn’t my fault! – but I’m a toy train on a circular track. I stop at the same stations, only to move on and come around again. I’m hoping this real focus on coaching, such as that by Mel Robbins, will help me change the tracks and send soothe my cravings.

Enough (cont from previous post)

How to explain?

I told him that my last trip with him was the happiest I had been. I was so happy.

But that trip had signalled a ‘mental’ end. For me, I had decided that once I got back there would be no more relaxing and dilly-dallying. No. It was time to start work.

When that didn’t happen (my DBS wasn’t back), I faltered. I mourned not being with him and the life I wanted with him. But I couldn’t motivate myself wholeheartedly to do much else. Whilst I couldn’t explain this to him as eloquently as I have just now, he understood. He told me not to worry – I would be working soon. He told me to fill my time, and my mind, with other work. He’s always right.

I continued. And then…and then there was the incident with my London friend. I hadn’t told him what she had said but he pressed me and so I did. 

This was hard to explain – naturally, he took the affront and felt that she (and I) were accusing him of being bad and of not loving me.

But that isn’t it. I told him that I know he is a good man. Her words, her belief that I was an option actually made me feel bad on me. That I wasn’t good enough. The reason he hasn’t made a commitment or a decision was that I wasn’t good enough.

“Did I say that? Have I ever said that to you? You must understand my thinking.”

He was angry with her for inserting herself so negatively in our relationship. He talked of his culture and the ‘white thread’ that family brought to support a couple when they were struggling.

He said there were no problems between us.  That he just needed time to get everything right where he was, before he made the final move to commitment and leaving his country.

He told me…he told me that he had never met a woman like me before. He told me that I was beautiful and gentle and a good woman, and that his parents had said the same. He said he was the bad one – he didn’t do half of what I did for him and so I had no reason to think bad of myself. When I asked him why he didn’t, and I say that not because I want him to do those things but out of curiosity, he said he wasn’t in the position to do it. It wasn’t his way and I knew his situation. (I repeat, I don’t expect those things from him. I don’t need gifts as such. I perhaps just need a symbol.)

He talked about how we shared our life, and how we had done so for two years now. He told me he had never spent so much virtual time with a woman, none of his ex girlfriends. And I was the only one who knew his family – didn’t I realise that was something special?

That is what he had given me, I concluded. Not a token. He had made the decision to give me his life, of a fashion. Outside of me, and his parents, and his Instagram aspirations he does little else. This isn’t a man going out all the time. He rarely goes anywhere.

I am enough. He told me I am enough. What actually said is that I’m better than, more than that.

So….

Enough already. Stop with the mopsing and the worrying and the overthinking.

I am enough.